legacy from the days when Britannia ruled the waves,' Louise joked ruefully, but Jean Claude continued to remain serious.
'Such colonialist views are not considered acceptable in these modern times petite ', he reminded her. 'And jf you would accept a word of warning from me I would suggest that you do not voice them too publicly. There are many nations based here in Brussels who consider that they have good reason to resent what they view as British tyranny and oppression...'
It was on the tip of Louise's tongue to point out mildly that the French, along with the Dutch, and the Portuguese, come to that, had all been equally vigorous at some stage of their history in pursuing the acquisition of new colonies, lands and seas over which they staked ownership, but Jean Claude's serious tone prevented her, and besides, as she had often noticed, sensationally handsome and attentive though he was, for her tastes the Frenchman lacked one vitally important virtue: he had virtually no sense of humour.
'It's going to be next week before I can see you, Jean Claude,' she told him instead.
'Very well...then I shall ring you next week. Although we could always be together later...after your dinner is over...' He started to purr meaningfully.
Louise laughed.
'Spend the night with you, you mean... Non. Non, non...'
'Now you say non, but one day soon you will say oui, and not just to spend the night with me,' he warned her, and she could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice as she laughed and said her goodbyes.
'You're wrong, Jean Claude,' she murmured to herself as she replaced the receiver. Attractive though he was, she was in no danger of being tempted to join his long list of lovers.
'Oh, but you are so cold,' he had complained the last time she had refused him. 'Cold outside, but I think very, very hot inside. Very, very hot...' he had whispered as he had attempted to deepen the passion of the kiss they were sharing.
'Why so bashful?' he had added when she had gently, but firmly, disengaged herself from him. 'You are a woman of very great attractiveness, Louise, and I cannot be the first to tell you so—nor the first man to take you to bed...'
' Y OU haven't taken me to bed,' Louise had felt bound to remind him.
'Not yet,' he had agreed, adding wickedly, 'But I shall...and very soon.' His voice had deepened as his hand reached out to stroke her breast.
Deftly Louise had manoeuvred herself away from him and opened the door of his car.
He was right about one thing. He was not the first to have wanted to take her to bed, but...
'Oh, no... No,' Louise told herself fiercely. 'I'm not going through all that again. I'm not travelling down that road...thinking those thoughts...'
Wasn't it one of the first signs of long-term spinsterdom when one started talking to oneself...?
Spinsterdom... It was an old-fashioned, very non- politically correct and out-of-favour word, with all its unkind connotations and in-built prejudices. But a spinster was, after all, what she was, and what she was likely to remain...
By choice, she reminded herself fiercely. By choice. By the expression of her free will because... because...
'Stop that,' she told herself sternly, reminding herself mundanely, 'You've got to be up early in the morning!'
CHAPTER FIVE
' L OUISE . Good!' her boss greeted her as she hurried into Louise's office. 'I'm glad you're here early.'
'I thought you'd want me to brief you on the possible legal complexities of this proposed change in fishing rights.'
'Yes, yes, I do,' Pam Carlisle agreed. 'But I also want you to accompany me to this morning's meeting. Things have changed rather a lot since we first discussed the matter. For a start, there's been a good deal of political argument brought up by some of the other committee members over the fact that the proposed Chair, Gareth Simmonds, is British, and of course the existing fishing rights are also British.'
'Yes... Yes, so I understand,' Louise agreed
'Such colonialist views are not considered acceptable in these modern times petite ', he reminded her. 'And jf you would accept a word of warning from me I would suggest that you do not voice them too publicly. There are many nations based here in Brussels who consider that they have good reason to resent what they view as British tyranny and oppression...'
It was on the tip of Louise's tongue to point out mildly that the French, along with the Dutch, and the Portuguese, come to that, had all been equally vigorous at some stage of their history in pursuing the acquisition of new colonies, lands and seas over which they staked ownership, but Jean Claude's serious tone prevented her, and besides, as she had often noticed, sensationally handsome and attentive though he was, for her tastes the Frenchman lacked one vitally important virtue: he had virtually no sense of humour.
'It's going to be next week before I can see you, Jean Claude,' she told him instead.
'Very well...then I shall ring you next week. Although we could always be together later...after your dinner is over...' He started to purr meaningfully.
Louise laughed.
'Spend the night with you, you mean... Non. Non, non...'
'Now you say non, but one day soon you will say oui, and not just to spend the night with me,' he warned her, and she could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice as she laughed and said her goodbyes.
'You're wrong, Jean Claude,' she murmured to herself as she replaced the receiver. Attractive though he was, she was in no danger of being tempted to join his long list of lovers.
'Oh, but you are so cold,' he had complained the last time she had refused him. 'Cold outside, but I think very, very hot inside. Very, very hot...' he had whispered as he had attempted to deepen the passion of the kiss they were sharing.
'Why so bashful?' he had added when she had gently, but firmly, disengaged herself from him. 'You are a woman of very great attractiveness, Louise, and I cannot be the first to tell you so—nor the first man to take you to bed...'
' Y OU haven't taken me to bed,' Louise had felt bound to remind him.
'Not yet,' he had agreed, adding wickedly, 'But I shall...and very soon.' His voice had deepened as his hand reached out to stroke her breast.
Deftly Louise had manoeuvred herself away from him and opened the door of his car.
He was right about one thing. He was not the first to have wanted to take her to bed, but...
'Oh, no... No,' Louise told herself fiercely. 'I'm not going through all that again. I'm not travelling down that road...thinking those thoughts...'
Wasn't it one of the first signs of long-term spinsterdom when one started talking to oneself...?
Spinsterdom... It was an old-fashioned, very non- politically correct and out-of-favour word, with all its unkind connotations and in-built prejudices. But a spinster was, after all, what she was, and what she was likely to remain...
By choice, she reminded herself fiercely. By choice. By the expression of her free will because... because...
'Stop that,' she told herself sternly, reminding herself mundanely, 'You've got to be up early in the morning!'
CHAPTER FIVE
' L OUISE . Good!' her boss greeted her as she hurried into Louise's office. 'I'm glad you're here early.'
'I thought you'd want me to brief you on the possible legal complexities of this proposed change in fishing rights.'
'Yes, yes, I do,' Pam Carlisle agreed. 'But I also want you to accompany me to this morning's meeting. Things have changed rather a lot since we first discussed the matter. For a start, there's been a good deal of political argument brought up by some of the other committee members over the fact that the proposed Chair, Gareth Simmonds, is British, and of course the existing fishing rights are also British.'
'Yes... Yes, so I understand,' Louise agreed
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